Unchained

It was 111 degrees in Little Rock yesterday.  The only place hotter in North America was Death Valley.  I got a text from the rescue director, a picture of a dog chained to a tree.  No visible water or shelter from the brutal heat.  The lady who owned the property had called the rescue and said that the dog belonged to her daughter and was not being cared for.  It was only a pup, at eight months old.  She wanted it gone.  She had agreed to surrender the dog to us, but she didn't want anyone to take it until her daughter was home and that wouldn't be until Thursday.  Anyway, we had no available fosters and no money for boarding.  Still, I couldn't get that picture out of my mind.  My stomach hurt.  The poor thing was going to die if nobody acted until Thursday, so I volunteered to go there myself, get the dog, and bring her here until arrangements could be made.  I called the lady and talked her into letting me come and take the dog right away.  I could tell that she wanted to do the right thing, even if it meant getting herself in trouble with her daughter.  She didn't want the dog suffering and dying on her watch so she gave in pretty easily. 

Jonathon and I headed out to rural Saline Co. to free this suffering dog before the heat took her life.(rule of thumb is never to go on a rescue on private property alone...you never know what you will find when you get there!) We arrived to find the poor girl chained up in the dirt. The chain was about eight feet long.  This dog had spent her entire life in that dusty circle of dirt.  She ate, slept and eliminated there.  Only a small, plastic crate sat next to her.  I guess that was suppose to be a dog house.  There was a dirty, empty old bucket covered in algae.  I guess that was supposed to be her water supply.  Other than those two luxuries, her life was dirt. What a sad existence.   

She was filthy.  Her eye lids and lashes were covered with a thick layer of dust.  Her nose, mouth and tongue were dried out.  She was visibly dehydrated.  She wouldn't have made it another 24 hours in that situation.  She was also terrified of us.  But, she was gorgeous and her fearful eyes had a sweetness in them.  Living as a prisoner, she was longing to be a family member.  We loaded her up and got out of there. 

We stopped at the first gas station we passed to get her some water.  She was so hot and thirsty.  I'm sure it was the first clean cool water she'd had this drought stricken summer. 

We brought her home and introduced her to Dixie and Jax.  She was terrified of them, too, but that didn't last.  I bathed her right away.  She needed cleaning up and cooling down asap.  Most dogs do not enjoy their first bath.  I turned on the hose and she immediately put her face in the water.  She opened her eyes and mouth and let the water wash the dust out of them.  Her white stripe became more visible.  She moved her entire body around in the water, getting fully soaked and loving it.  I soaped her up and she started doing twirls and jumping around.  It must have felt amazing.

In the after bath came a different dog.  She began to run around the yard full speed.  She was finally free.  She could stretch her legs for the first time ever.  She was just discovering what she she was capable of unchained.  There was running and jumping and flailing around with six months of stored energy coming out.  It was a sight to see. 

She is only a temporary house guest.  She has a foster applicant that gets her home visit tonight.  If everything checks out, she will head down to Texarkana to her foster home in the next couple of days.  She appears to be healthy but she has never been to the vet, has had no shots or preventatives,  and therefore probably has heartworm.  Sigh. 

I have named her "London." ( The Olympics have occupied a lot of my attention since it's too damn hot to do anything else!)   I already love her.  She reminds me so much of a young Asia with her thick, reverse brindle coat and little white stripe on her nose. 

First taste of relief



AAAHHHH

WOOHOO!

There is a thin line between a happy dog and a miserable one.  It's called a chain. 

Hanging On.

Thanks for all of your positive energy and prayers for Bella.   I think they are working!

Our girl is doing as well as possible.  She is terribly annoyed at having to be cooped up all the time, but is learning incredible self control.  She finally has a better appetite back, which is great, because she has lost all of the weight that she had gained.  There has been much less coughing this past week too.  I am very optimistic.  I hope not foolishly so. 

Please pray for Bella.

Bella was in the hospital again yesterday for xrays.  Her cough had not subsided with the additional medications.  The xray was a precaution, to rule out secondary infection (like bronchitis or pneumonia) before we put her on higher dose steroids.  The xrays were expected to be normal.  Just a precaution. 

Instead, the xrays were shocking, and revealed terrible news.  Bella's heartworm disease is way more severe than seemingly possible for a dog as young as she is.  So advanced, that there are major abnormalities in her heart and lungs.  Her heart is deformed, the pulmonary artery is bulging from the infestation, barely allowing blood to pass through.  The vessels in her lungs are inflamed and twisted up.  She also has fluid in her lungs.  So although she seems fine on the outside, she is in critical condition. 



Bella's xray.  



My best attempt at explaining the xray.

Bella appeared to be the perfect candidate for heartworm treatment.  She is young and strong and was totally asymptomatic.  A dog with a case as advanced as hers would typically show all signs of the disease.  They have a chronic cough, exercise intolerance, and just an overall "sickness" about them.  Bella showed none of those.  She seemed like a perfectly healthy dog who would breeze though the treatment.  The protocol would have been different for an advanced case, like hers, had we known the danger.

We followed the norm.  Nobody did anything wrong because we couldn't have anticipated this.  Old dogs that have had the disease for years have these issues, not pups.  But what is done is done.  We can't undo the treatment.  We can only wait it out now and pray that Bella pulls through.  She needs to be our little miracle dog. 

But there are just so many worms.  And her poor little heart is so full.  It terrifies me.  One hard cough, one jump off the couch, one tiny piece of worm dislodged is all it would take.  It could happen that fast. 

Long term prognosis is unknown, but Doc thinks pretty good if she makes it through the next month.  Of course we won't know how much, if any, permanent damage was done until the follow up xrays after the treatment is complete. 

I got no sleep last night.  I'm just sick over this.  I'm still in a state of disbelief.   And I feel so helpless.  Bella is in critical condition and there isn't a damn thing anyone can do about it. 


I will keep you all posted.  I feel like I share Bella with all of you who contributed to her care.  I am doing what little I can for her and loving her enough for all of us.  And you should know, even with  this mess going on inside of her, she has no idea she is sick.  Her spirits are high and she is very happy.

Bella, one week update.

Today marks one week since Bella got her injections.  She is doing well, overall, though the treatment has been hard on all of us, as expected.  Her first night she extremely sick and my heart was breaking for her as her entire body trembled in pain.  Motherly Dixie was up all night long, pacing the house and whining nervously for her friend.  Luckily the immense pain stage passed quickly and by the end of day two she was feeling much better.   Friday she had to be hospitalized for observation as she began coughing, a sign that the emboli are irritating her lungs.  I had to go to work and couldn't leave her alone in case the situation were to escalate.  She got a steroid, cough suppressant, and a new anti-inflammatory added to her daily meds.  She has continued to cough all week, which is scary.  I am relieved every day when I get home and see her alive and well in her crate.  She has about another week before she is out of the highly critical stage of the treatment. 

The hardest part is how sad and confused she is about being kept from having fun and playing with the others after two months of doing nothing but.  I'm sure she feels as if she is being punished.  I so wish I could explain to her, and the other dogs, that it was for her own good.  After the two week period is over, I will start bringing her with me to work so she gets at least some variation back in her life. 

We are Lennox.

Earlier this week, at the stroke of midnight when his stay expired, an innocent family dog was put to death.  His name was Lennox.  His crime was his appearance (he was a lab/bulldog mix), it was said that he looked like a pit bull type dog.  This happened in Belfast,  (Northern Ireland), but his story has captured the hearts of bully breed lovers and dog lovers in general all over the world, including me. 

 Lennox's story has been going on for two years now when he was torn from his family and sentenced to death.  Despite the protest of thousands of people around the world, and several world renowned  animal behaviorists like Victoria Stillwell and Cesar Millan and rescue groups like Villalobos, asking to take possession of Lennox, the pleas were ignored.  After spending two years deplorable conditions, health deteriorating, he was ultimately euthanized.  His family wasn't even permitted to say goodbye.   This dog had never bitten anyone.  Quite the opposite, he was the best friend and therapy dog to a special needs little girl for five years.  That was, until BSL (breed specific legislation) went into affect and he was seized from her arms, being placed in the category of "dangerous dogs." 

This is important to me because there are Lennoxs' everywhere.  It's happening all over our country too.  In my state, there are many towns with BSL in place.  Having dogs in my family that, if judged solely on appearance, could easily fall into the "dangerous dog" category, it really makes me sad and afraid.  

I am not saying that I think animals that are an actual threat to the safety of society should be allowed to roam the streets.  I just think that the dogs are being punished instead of the real criminals, the thugs that own these "tough" looking dogs and train them to be aggressive.  Any dog can bite.  Any dog can be aggressive.  It's all in how they are raised and treated.  One reason that the pitties and other bully breeds are the ones that are always in the news is because dog fighters and gangsters and drug dealers don't typically raise labradoodles.  Truth be told, for every aggressive pit bull out there, there are a hundred more that wouldn't hurt a fly.  JUDGE THE DEED. NOT THE BREED!

Rest in peace, sweet Lennox.  Your death was not in vain.  You have an army fighting in your name so your brothers and sisters around the world don't meet the same fate. 

Dixe- Mixed breed. We have often thought she may have a touch of pitbull in her.

Bella- Almost certainly has pitbull in her.

Jax- white boxer. often mistaken for an American Bulldog.

Treatment Day.

 I can't believe it has been over 30 days already.  This morning I dropped Bella off at the vet for her Immiticide injections.  She will have one this morning, spend the night there, and have another tomorrow morning.  If all goes well, she will be able to come home tomorrow night.  Then the month of bed rest begins.  Of course I am a nervous wreck today.  I hate to think of the pain she is in right now. 

The next few weeks are critical for her. 

Breedist?

I am not!

Many times, I have been asked "Why do you only rescue Boxers?"  (Which, if you have been a long term follower of my blog, you know that I have indeed rescued and/or fostered several other types of dog, but boxers have become my specialty.)  I don't take offense at the question, even when it's asked in a judgemental way, which it usually isn't.  The judgers have never been in my place, or they would already know the answer. 

I love me some boxers, but I didn't seek them out to begin with.  It has really only been since spending so much time with so many wonderful ones over the past few years that I have become such a fan.  I am hooked and I am certain that I will always have (at least) one in my life.  But, it was coincidence that I stumbled upon the local boxer rescue, not a plan. 

As I got more and more involved, it became clear to me that choosing a focus is pretty much a must in private animal rescue.  There are rescues for almost every breed type, and senior dogs, hunting dogs, toy dogs, giant breed dogs, black dogs, and the list goes on and on.  We are all on the same page.  We all love all dogs, but everyone needs to concentrate on something or they will get swallowed alive.  Your specialty works as a filter, like blinders.  It is one way of narrowing down the completely impossible to at least a little less overwhelming. 

Picture, if you will, walking into a crowded shelter and you can only rescue 2 dogs out of the 100 that are there, staring at you with their big sad eyes.  How on earth do you choose who you will save today if you have no focus?  You can't do that to yourself.  But if you have trained yourself (which actually happens naturally over time) to search for only those that you have set out specifically to help, the burden is slightly easier to carry.  Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of other dogs that melt my heart online and I have my moments of weakness, but I do try to keep my eye on the ball. 

It boils down to this.  Do I think that the scruffy little mixed breed or the friendly yellow lab in the adjacent kennels are any less deserving of a second chance than the boxer I will take home?  No I don't.  Absolutely not.  But I can't save them all.